


Lucifer's Lullaby

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergent, Insomnia, Lucifer’s still in the Cage, M/M, Sam’s not, a bit angsty, cage fic, improper alcohol use, ish, set sometime after Season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 15:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10856886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: Sam can't sleep





	Lucifer's Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> So, this popped into my head randomly and I knew I had to write it. So, um, enjoy?

Sam wrapped his arms tighter around himself, shivering in the cold hotel room. Outside, the storm raged on, lighting casting eerie shadows across the walls. The other bed was empty. Dean was out for the night, either still at the bar or they went back to her place. No matter. He didn’t care. 

What he  _ did  _ care about was trying to get some fucking sleep. 

He hasn’t slept well. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever gotten a good night’s sleep. 

Giving up, he padded over to the bathroom and splashed his face with warm water, taking a look at his swollen, puffy eyes that begged for sleep, or death. He’s not sure which at this point. 

He looked down at his hand and ran a finger along the scar down the center of his hand. He pressed it, as if by doing so he could summon Lucifer, or his hallucination, once more. 

It didn’t work. 

He’s not sure why he thinks pressing on the scar will make Lucifer appear again. Pressing on the scar was supposed to bring him  _ back  _ to reality, not make hallucinations appear and talk to him again. 

_ Fuck.  _ He was so fucked up. Pressing on a scar in hopes that a hallucination of the Devil- or Lucifer himself- will appear and rock Sam to sleep. 

He walked over to the fridge and took out the bottle of whiskey Dean had left. Not bothering with a glass, he opened it and took long swallows, letting the bitter liquid burn his throat hot enough he could choke, and yet he drank. 

The bottle had been three quarters full when Sam started. 

When he set it back down, it was empty. 

Dean was going to murder him. 

Sam couldn’t bring himself to care. 

He walked over to the window, watching the storm rage outside as his throat begged for relief, relief he barely granted by swallowing saliva as he watched the rain tattoo the windows, heard the thunder roll overhead. 

“Lucifer,” he rasped softly, resting a hand on the window. It was cold to the touch. “Lucifer. . . I miss you. I need you.” 

 

Down in the Cage, Lucifer heard the soft prayer spoken by Sam Winchester, and he flung himself at the bars once more with renewed snarling. He couldn’t even get back inside Sam’s head, become a hallucination again. That part of the Cage had been fixed, courtesy of Michael’s meddling. He fixed his brother straight on that, but it was too late. 

His portal to Sam was gone, and he could hear the plea, the plaintiveness in Sam’s voice. It was raining, where Sam was. He could hear the rain and the wind and the thunder along with Sam’s soft voice. 

“Sam,” he whispered, hissing as the Cage burned more scars into his flesh. He ignored it. He doesn’t care. “Sam, I’m so sorry.” 

He banged on the Cage with fists of fury, needing Sam, wanting Sam. He could feel the tiredness in Sam’s bones, could feel the lack of sleep. He could tell Sam was a bit tipsy, if not close to drunk. 

“Oh Sam,” he whispered, his wings flaring out in a need to fly to his Vessel and hold him, comfort him. He can’t even dreamwalk properly, dammit! How was he supposed to tell Sam he’s okay if he can’t even  _ communicate  _ with him?! 

Frustrated, he sank to the floor and wrapped his arms and wings around himself. In the other corner, Michael was doing his daily devotionals to their Father. Resisting the urge to sneer at Michael’s faith, he raised his face upwards of their prison, a tear starting to slip down his face. 

He did the only thing he knew he could use to comfort himself. 

He sang. 

It was an Enochian lullaby, one he’s sang countless times. To soothe little angels to sleep while they grew, to comfort them as they got older. He wrote the piece, and sang it to them, and they loved it. He’s long forgotten who was the first or last angel to hear it. He doesn’t know if it’s still used in Heaven today. 

All he knows is it will comfort him. 

 

Sam raised his head from where it rested against the window pane, brow furrowed. There was music, a man singing in tongues. He wasn’t sure of the language- only that it seemed beyond ancient. But it had a real soothing quality to it. Low and dark, with just the hint of sweetness, like eating a bar of dark chocolate. 

He looked around outside, but there was no one. A street lamp flickered, and then went dark. 

He double checked the hex bags, salt lines, and wards in the hotel that he and Dean had set up before his older brother went on his sexcape, before deciding that he  _ was  _ kind of tired. Whether it was just listening to the rain, hearing this voice, or the whiskey now burning holes in his skin from drinking it so fast and letting the alcohol warm him, he’s not sure. 

Stretching, he padded back over to his bed and curled up under the covers once more. He gave a yawn and checked his phone. It was two in the morning. Dean should be back in five hours, and would probably want to sleep a couple more before they hit the road again. Settling more comfortably in the bed, so his feet weren’t hanging off the edge, he closed his eyes and drifted off quickly. 

 

Lucifer finished the song and stretched his wings before wrapping them around himself. Michael continued to do his prayers behind him, so he laid down and closed his eyes. 

Sam was now calmer, if not asleep. Smiling to himself at his Vessel finally feeling like sleep was an option, he closed his own eyes and brought his hand up to look at the new scars and burns on his flesh. 

_ Soon, the sacrifices I make,  _ he thought as he put himself in a meditative trance,  _ will set me free, and I can give Sam what he deserves. Love and compassion. And a chance to be the little spoon.  _

Neither knew that Lucifer’s lullaby managed to reach Sam Winchester, nor that the Cage was beginning to deteriorate again. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


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